Skip to main content

Week29: Birthdays #52Ancestorsin52Weeks

All of us get to celebrate our birthdays, but not everyone gets to celebrate their 100th birthday and receive a letter from the late Queen Elizabeth II.


Frances Murphy, my husband's aunt,  was born in Cambuslang, Lanarkshire on the 13th of June 1919 to James Murphy, a miner, and his wife Mary Ann Pyne. She was the fourth of twelve children. When she was eighteen her father died suddenly of peritonitis. Frances, having been brought up in a religious family asked her mother why God had taken her father. Her mother replied " You are lucky. If it had been me, you would all have been put into an orphanage."

Despite this tragedy, Frances and her siblings thrived. Three went to university and seven of the remaining eight studied at college - a feat almost unheard of in a working class family at that time. Frances herself became a primary school teacher, but, in the 1950s, a cousin invited her to come and settle in America. After several years teaching there, Frances qualified as a Montessori teacher and was later asked by a group of wealthy parents to set up her own Montessori school. This proved to be a great success both educationally and financially. 

She stayed in the USA until she decided to retire at the age of sixty. Never having married or had children of her own, she made up her mind to return to Scotland. However, she found retirement boring. In response to repeated requests from her American pupils' parents, she decided to go back to America and resume her teaching career. This she did for the next thirty-two years!!!  She retired for a second time at the age of ninety-two, after breaking her hip in a fall. 

Again, she decided to return to Scotland and, after a few years living with one of her sisters, she settled into a Roman Catholic Nursing Home, which she called " a little piece of heaven". Her physical health and mental faculties remained remarkably good and she went on to celebrate her 100th birthday in 2019.

She always told her family that the Good Lord would take her when He was ready. This he did the following year, suddenly, just after she had retired to her room from having had her lunch.

She was found in her chair, her prayer book in her hands on her lap.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Week 50: You wouldn't believe it! #52Ancestorsin52Weeks

I have already written about my 3 x great uncle, James McAra, who was sentenced to deportation at the High Court in Edinburgh in 1811. His crime had been to attack his brother, my 3 x great grandfather, Alexander, with an iron bar during an argument, with Alexander being badly hurt and dying a few days later. James was an iron worker by trade in Scotland and continued this trade in the small town of Sorell in Tasmania.  We cannot know much about the life he led in Sorell, but he is mentioned in a variety of documents. For example we know he was given a Free Pardon by the Governor of Tasmania and New South Wales in 1836. He also acquired some land in 1839, which, in his Will, he left to daughters of a friend. We know his affection for 'drink', which had led to the fatal fight back in Scotland, never left him as 'excessive drinking' was given as cause of death on his death certificate. However his tombstone bears witness to the fact he was well-liked and a 'good and h

2024 Week 14: Favourite recipe #52Ancestorsin52Weeks

So, despite the heading, I'm not going to write about a favourite recipe that an ancestor has passed down to me, simply because there isn't one. What or rather whom I'm going to write about is my mum, Helen Anderson, who absolutely loved baking. And it is this love of baking that has been passed on to me. My mum. My mum was always baking. Like most children, I got allowed to 'lick the spoon' and taste the raw cake mixture. I got to learn to how to make crispie cakes. I watched how to make pancakes and enjoyed getting the first ones off the pan. I took in helpful baking hints like 'half fat to flour' for pastry or ' 4 4 4 plus 2' for the measurements of flour, sugar,  butter and eggs needed for a sponge cake or little butterfly cakes.  She had learned how to bake from her mother, as many women in her generation had done. There was always something 'in the tin' should a friend or neighbour pop in for a cup of tea. But she didn't just bake f

2024 Week 43: Lost contact #52Ancestorsin52Weeks

 When we research our ancestors and their families, it is all to easy to become a collector of names, dates and places. After all, we want to 'know' who they were and where they lived and when, in order to get a glimpse into what their life was like. We look for photographs of our most recent ancestors to see what they looked like. We trawl censuses, Poor Law Applications, Wills and Testaments to get some detail about their rank in society, their jobs, their financial circumstances. We discover their families, the children they had, the children they lost. We may read their obituaries and gravestones and scan their death certificates for cause of death. Through research, we can slowly start to build up a picture of them, a notion that we know 'who they were'. But something will usually elude us - we will never truly know their feelings/emotions, even if we know the key moments in their lives. Take my grandmother, Christina, who lost her first four children and then anot